<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Now It Feels Like Home by quietly_desperate</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983824">Now It Feels Like Home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietly_desperate/pseuds/quietly_desperate'>quietly_desperate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Fluff and Angst, Holding Hands, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Neck Kissing, No Plot/Plotless, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, POV Remus Lupin, Panic Attacks, Protective Remus Lupin, Sharing a Bed, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius Black Needs a Hug, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Raise Harry Potter, We Die Like Men, at least at the end, breathing techniques, but it’s only there if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:41:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietly_desperate/pseuds/quietly_desperate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you sure you want to go there?” Remus asks for the fourth time, taking a moment to spare a glance at Sirius.</p><p> “Yes,” is all he says. “And you’ll stay there with me?”</p><p>“Always. As long as you need.”</p><p>Or; the progress of turning Grimmauld Place into a home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Now It Feels Like Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtloml/gifts">newtloml</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ello ello ello!</p><p>It’s been a while!</p><p>Figured I had to come back with a shameless fluff fic of my two favourite lads, Sirius and Remus. This is dedicated to Sammy, the Sirius to my Remus. I hope this is as comforting as I hoped it to be. </p><p>Please read the tags. There are a few scenes in here that can get a little heavy. Nothing too much, but I’d rather be safe than sorry :)</p><p>I hope you enjoy x</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><strong>The first time Remus goes to Grimmauld Place, it’s not for any good reason.</strong> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It has long since been abandoned. All that’s left is the deafening silence of a house once alive, now left to rot as its old inhabitants do the same. Walburga and Orion Black are dead, as is Regulus, and Sirius has been carted off to Azkaban for a crime he did not commit. Despite them having been long gone, Remus can still feel their presence as he crosses the threshold between the outside and the front door. A cold chill passes over him as he enters the house. Grimmauld Place. What a fitting name. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">There are a few portraits on the walls; Black family members of the Past, long dead before Sirius was even thought of. They remain quiet as Remus passes them by, almost as if in knowledge of his purpose here. He regards them with stiff nods, more out of formalities than respect, then carries on further and further into the thicket of the old Black family home. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Images of toddler-aged Sirius dragging baby Regulus here there and everywhere around the house float by Remus’ eyes. Their ghosts of lives past float in front of his eyes, stopping only briefly to wave, before they run off and disappear into the mist. Chilling sounds of Orion yelling at Sirius for being a disappointment to the family fill Remus’ ears. A slap is heard, followed by the sound of a deafening scream, before it fades into silence. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Every room holds a memory. Remus was not there to witness them, nor he doubts he ever will be here enough to make new memories (and honestly doesn’t really want to right now), but the walls have seen enough and they’re starting to talk. They urge Remus on, begging for him to release their pain, pushing him from room to room until he’s running around in maddening circles, gasping for breath and begging, pleading for them to stop. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They go silent when he finds himself in front of Sirius’ bedroom door. There’s a fine layer of dust - evidence it has not been touched since his departure at sixteen. Underneath the dust lie an arrangement of burnt wood, carvings and scratches. The door has taken the brunt of many hexes; Remus can tell by the burn marks, the type you only get from the front end of a wand. But there’s cigarette burn marks, too, and a very tiny but obvious <em>fuck off </em>engraved in the middle of the door. It’s clearly been covered up and carved over again and again. That part of the door is a lighter colour of wood, thinner in texture to the rest of the door. Remus runs a gentle finger over the engraving and chuckles sadly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The walls clearly want him to step inside, but he refuses; turning on his heel and walking left, instead. The first time he wants to see Sirius’ room is when Sirius invites him inside. He’d wait a lifetime for it, forever if he has to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">So the house guides him to another room instead - the room with the Black family tree painted across its walls. The little images of all the Black family members whisper and titter as Remus casts a glance over them, but most are too old and too far in the past to hear very clearly. Remus doesn’t mind. He doesn’t care for them and their incestuous ways. All he cares about is Sirius, and his presence on the wall. He knows he is not proud to be a Black, and Remus has never - <em>would never</em> - try to convince him otherwise, but he is grateful in this moment if only because it means he can see Sirius one more time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Except, he can’t, because his face has been burnt off the wall. There’s something so harrowing about that image that it sets Remus off. He begins to scream, and shout, and cry, and throw expensive vases and cutlery and anything he can get his hands on. Sixteen years of pain and abuse and torture, five short years of freedom, and all for what? A life sentence in Azkaban? It makes Remus sick to even think about. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">After a while, he stops. He’s panting, heavy breaths filling the room, dampening the air, but his body has gone lax and he’s lost all his energy. When he looks up, he finds himself in one of the sitting rooms. The carpet is torn and he can’t tell whether or not that was done by the hands currently clutching at the neck of his shirt. He’s sweating. The whole world feels heavy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">That’s when a cool breeze passes over him. At first it makes him freeze, then he relaxes into it as it passes over him in waves. When there’s nothing left but the ghost of its touch, he looks up once more and almost screams at the sight in front of him. Sirius, broken and bruised, looking like Death himself save for the wide smile on his face and the glimmer of hope in his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Moony,” he says. “You came.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus runs and never looks back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">•••</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <strong> <span class="s2">The next time Remus goes to Grimmauld Place, things seem to be looking up. </span> </strong>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius has been released from Azkaban early after being found innocent of the crimes previously charged against him. Remus still can’t quite believe it, even with Sirius sitting in the passenger’s seat of his car, but he’ll take what he can get. Anything if it means having Padfoot back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Well, almost. He’s quiet, clearly trying to process his freedom after whatever harrowing things he witnessed in Azkaban. Remus can’t blame him, and offers his hand as a promise - <em>you’re safe, you’re okay, I’m here, I’ve got you.</em> Sirius takes it with a small nod, his body relaxing into the seat almost as soon as his fingers intertwine with Remus’. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Are you sure you want to go there?” Remus asks for the fourth time, taking a moment to spare a glance at Sirius. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yes,” is all he says. “And you’ll stay there with me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Always. As long there as you need.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"><em>There</em> is Grimmauld Place. When asked where he’d like to stay after his release, Sirius’ immediate answer was his old childhood home. It was the only answer he’d given with confidence when preparations where being made. Remus had been worried about his return there, especially after the way he left all those years ago, and offered the spare room at his place. Sirius had refused. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It’s something I must do, Remus,” Sirius had explained. “You understand, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus hadn’t understood, and still doesn’t if he’s being honest with himself, but he isn’t about to argue with Sirius on this. They’d come to an agreement, anyway (or at least, a compromise in Remus’ head; more like an innocent request from Sirius point of view): Remus is to stay with Sirius for at least a month, if not longer. He is more than happy to oblige. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And with Sirius’ fourth promise that this is what he wants, Remus drives them back to Grimmauld Place with the hopes it will welcome them home. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius hesitates by the front door, looking idly between what’s in front of him, and what’s behind him - Remus, pulling a suitcase out of the boot of the car. When he finally joins Sirius by the door is when he seems to gain his courage, and he pushes it open with tentative fingers, then tenses up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Nothing happens. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I forget, sometimes, that they are dead,” Sirius says. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Who?” Remus asks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Everyone.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He should feel disturbed by that, but it’s true - everyone Sirius does care about, or at least once did, is dead. Everyone, except Remus, who grabs Sirius’ hand with his free one and squeezes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We go in together?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius nods. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">On the count of three, they walk in. Even Remus anticipates some huge reaction, like the walls screaming of ghosts of Sirius’ past coming out to haunt them, but the house is calm, peaceful almost. They look at each other in surprise, then with more surprise because neither of them expected the other to feel the same way, and then they laugh. They laugh for all they have lost and all they have gained. They laugh because how did they get to this point? They laugh because it is all they can do. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And when they stop laughing, and all that’s left is teary eyes and the soft sound of panting breaths, Sirius gently leads Remus up to his bedroom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It’s still covered in a layer of dust, however it’s much less thick and has obviously been disturbed. Remus tries to tame the heat in his cheeks when he sees Sirius look at him with curious eyes. He fails miserably. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You were here,” says Sirius. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yes,” Remus replies. “A month after you were sent to Azkaban.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius sucks in a breath, hard and sharp and fast. Remus can’t quite figure out what to make of it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I hope that’s alright,” he continues. “I felt...compelled, almost. Summoned, if you will.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You came,” is all Sirius says, then he changes the subject completely. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“My mother would rearrange my room every time I went off to Hogwarts. She’d tear at my Muggle posters and smash up whatever records I’d left behind; tear up my jeans and snap my chains in half. As much as that hurt me, I always got the satisfaction of knowing she could never remove the <em>fuck off</em> carving from my door.” He reaches out and traces over the letters, much like Remus did all those months ago. His breath quivers. “It was I who left, in the end, and now she’s gone.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Do you miss her? Any of your family?” Remus asks.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No,” Sirius says. He looks down between them and stares at their intertwined hands, squeezes his smaller one against Remus’s larger one. When he looks back up, Remus can’t contain the smile that overcomes his face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No, I don’t miss them. I have my own family now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And he pushes open the door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It’s smaller than Remus was expecting it to be. There’s enough room for a double bed in the middle of the right wall, and a desk and a wardrobe against the left wall, but that’s about it. He can’t tell whether Sirius magically configured it this way, or whether it was a punishment by his parents to give him the smallest, most non-Black-like room in the house. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Despite all this, Sirius seems right at home. He takes a deep breath in, then runs and jumps onto his bed. A cloud of dust emits from the sheets, and the bed lets out a loud groan at his weight, but this doesn’t deter him. He simply rolls onto his stomach and presses his nose into the doona cover, inhaling deeply. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Even after all this years, it still smells of roses and my mother’s perfume.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Her perfume?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“From when I was a child,” Sirius explains, although it hardly gives much away. “She used to spray my bed with her perfume when I had nightmares - and I had a lot of nightmares. I guess she sprayed so much the smell has now become one with the bed.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He motions Remus over, who doesn’t even hesitate before he crosses the floor, lies down on his stomach and lets himself inhale the distinct aroma of rose and something sharp and bitter. Sirius’ mother’s perfume smells like what firewhiskey tastes like. It’s the only way he can seem to make sense of it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Peculiar,” he says, and Sirius chuckles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“My mother in a nutshell.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They lay there for a while, eventually turning onto their backs to stare up at the ceiling. Remus can just make out the outlines of a few posters that once found their home about Sirius’ bed. He wonders what they were of, which Muggle bands he obsessed over to make his mother cry. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He doesn’t force Sirius to get up and move, to unpack or ask him to show him to his room. There is something rather fulfilling about being in this room, watching the dust mites drift lazily above their eyes and hearing Sirius breathing beside him. He risks reaching across the small space between their bodies and interlocking their fingers once more. Sirius holds his breath for less than a second before he lets out a content sigh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">When they’ve finally had enough - or, at least, Sirius has - they get up. Like clockwork, a silent agreement between them, they strip the bed and remake it with the sheets Remus picked up before Sirius’ release. When that’s done, they sort through Sirus’ wardrobe, then his desk, and the small bookcase Remus hadn’t noticed when he first walked into the room. They go over little trinkets and nick nacks, even finding the snow globe of Paris that Remus had gifted Sirius on his fifteenth birthday.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Your birthday week was during a full moon,” Remus says, recalling the memory. “I was so stressed out I bought you this as a last ditch effort to buy you something. I remember being so embarrassed giving it to you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“And I remember it being my favourite gift out of the lot. It’s still my favourite gift - from anybody,” Sirius says. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus definitely does not blush. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They work in compatible silence, going from room to room to sort out little bits and bobs and to orientate themselves with their surroundings. Some rooms Sirius complete avoids and Remus doesn’t question him. He simply walks past the closed door and followed Sirius on to the next room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">By dinner time, they find themselves in the kitchen, eating spaghetti bolognese and chocolate frogs on the kitchen floor. The table is but a few feet away, but they find themselves leaning against the cupboard doors and each other instead. Remus lays his head on Sirius’ shoulder and Sirius feeds him a forkful of spaghetti. Neither action comes across as out-of-character. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And when the spaghetti is finished and they feel sickly full on chocolate frogs, they help each other off the floor, leave the dishes in the sink - “a luxury I was never allowed, despite our house elves,” Sirius says conversationally - and walk hand in hand back up to Sirius’ room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus knows he should ask. He should ask where he should sleep, if Sirius wants space. They set up a couple of the spare rooms during their light clean of Grimmauld Place, so there’s plenty of options, but Remus can’t seem to bring himself to leave Sirius’ side. He’s finally got him back, after a few years of agony over losing his four best friends in the span of one night; after facing full moon after full moon alone with no one running their hands through his hair and whispering soft words of praise in his ear once he wakes up. The thought of leaving Sirius - of leaving his Padfoot - for even a couple of hours to sleep is agonising. It drives Remus mad. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">So when Sirius strips off his clothes and puts on a pair of track pants; when he climbs into his childhood bed and scoots over to the far side, leaving enough room for Remus to climb in beside him, he doesn’t hesitate to quickly change and slide in to the open space. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They stare up at the ceiling once more, this time with nothing left to look at but the fuzzy look of the ceiling. Remus’ hand twitches where it’s resting on the mattress. He so desperately wants to reach across and grab Sirius’ hand, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm him with touch and affection. After all, it’s only been a few hours since Sirius was released from Azkaban. Merlin knew the man probably needed space. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Are you alright?” Remus asks instead. He turns his head to look at Sirius.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m doing surprisingly well. It helps that you’re here,” Sirius says, eyes never leaving the ceiling. Remus is silently grateful; his body feels like it’s on fire from the offhanded compliment. Sirius adds, “It feels weird, in a way. I thought coming back here would be bittersweet, but instead it’s just...sweet. It’s unlocked so many memories I forgot I had. I’ve almost been able to block out the bad ones with how many happy ones I have.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“That’s good,” Remus says. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hmm.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus traces the outline of Sirius’ face with his eyes before he turns his attention back up to the ceiling. He’s trying so hard not to let his beating heart and fire-filled veins ruin this moment. His thoughts run wild with memories and feelings, desperation and want, the daunting, beautiful, luxurious realisation all those years ago that he loved Padfoot - still loves him. There’s a quiet voice telling him to tell Sirius, to divulge his heart, but the rational side of him tells him to calm down, to remember what got them here in the first place. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">That’s when Remus concedes. He makes up his mind here and now that he will have Sirius in anyway he can. He already knows he’ll walk to the ends of the earth for the stupid, crazy, funny git beside him, so what is the harm in giving his all and dedicating his life to him? The thought alone sent a wave of contentment rushing over Remus. He knows without thinking twice that this is the right decision. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Moony?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yes, Pads?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius rolls over until he’s a hairs breath away from resting his head on Remus’ shoulder. Without thinking, Remus lifts up his right arm and invites Sirius in. They fit so perfectly together, and the cliche thought that they fit like two puzzle pieces crosses Remus’ mind. He can’t bring himself to care. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">When Sirius kisses Remus’ shoulder in lieu of saying goodnight, and when Remus runs his hand through Sirius’ hair until the latter falls asleep, neither of them question it. It’s feels as natural as two people finally coming home. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">•••</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus wakes up to somebody sobbing beside him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It takes him a moment to realise where he is. He’s on his back, in a bed that isn’t his own, but everything rushes back to him when the person - Padfoot - lets out a heartbreaking wail beside him. Images of the past day’s events come back to him in quick succession, and it only takes him two seconds to sit up, cast a Lumos from his wand and kneel before Sirius on the bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m sorry,” Sirius sobs. His whole body is shaking so hard Remus is scared he’ll slide right off the bed. “I can’t. I thought I could but I can’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Can’t do what, Pads? You can tell me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius looks up from his lap, his eyes meeting Remus with a pained expression on his face. “I can’t be here,” he whispers, and Remus understands.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We’ll go back to my place,” he says with a voice so calm and confident it not only surprises Sirius, but also himself. “But first, I need you to breathe with me, okay? Follow my breaths - in for four, hold for two, out for six. Can you do that for me, Sirius?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He nods, shaky and hesitant, but a nod all the same. Remus asks for permission to grab his hands, and Sirius immediately links their hands together, which makes Remus smile for a few seconds before he shakes his head and clears away the needy thoughts in his brain. This is about Sirius. This is about helping him to breathe. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It takes a good couple of minutes, but eventually Sirius is able to copy Remus’ breathing pattern. There are tears still rolling down his cheeks and his hands are shaking where they’re placed in Remus’ care, but he’s not breathing to the point of hyperventilating or passing out. Remus deems that as a success. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Now I want you to name five things you can see. Describe them to me, Pads. Can you do that for me?” Remus asks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius pauses for a moment. He takes in a shaky breath, exhales an even shakier one, but eventually begins to name five things he can see. His storyteller mind begins to take over - he describes Remus’ discarded cardigan in great detail, as if he had knitted the thing himself. He waxes poetry over the doona cover and makes the desk sitting parallel to his bed sound like the most beautiful treasure in the world. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">When Remus realises this technique is helping Sirius to calm down, he asks him to carry on; name four things he can feel, three things he can hear, two things he can smell and one thing he can taste. By the end time Sirius has finished describing all fifteen things in great detail, the shaking in his hands has stopped, his breathing is back to normal, and the only signs of his crying are the tear tracks running down his cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Feeling better?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius nods, “Much better, thank you.” He pauses, looks to his right and out the window of his room, before he turns back to Remus and says in an extremely small voice, “I really am sorry. I thought I could handle being here but...I guess not.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You have no reason to apologise, Sirius,” Remus says with sincerity. “You wanted to give it a go, and I’m proud of you for trying. You don’t have to stay here, to torment yourself. I meant what I said; we can pack up and head to mine right now, if you’d like?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Really?” Sirius says, and his voice is so full of relief it makes Remus’ heart crack. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Of course. But first -“ he reaches down to his discarded bag beside the bed and pulls out a piece of chocolate “— eat this. You’ll feel much better.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius lets out a boisterous laugh and the world illuminates into technicolour bliss. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">•••</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The sun is rising steadily over the horizon by the time they make it back to Remus’ small flat. Sirius’ once tense composure melts into one that radiates relief, and he practically collapses onto Remus’ sofa once they head inside. Remus leaves him for a second to turn on the kitchen lights and put the kettle on. There is nothing that a cup of tea couldn’t solve right now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">When he heads back into the living room, Sirius has curled himself up into a ball and dragged the throw blanket over himself, looking much too adorable for Remus’ heart to handle. He looks up when he hears Remus enter and gives him a shy smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Making yourself comfortable, I see,” Remus says lightheartedly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius winks. “You know it, babe.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus takes a heavy seat beside Sirius, his thighs dangerously close to Sirius’ head. He contemplates something for a few seconds before he pats his thigh and says nothing else. Sirius must understand, because not a second later he’s snuggling his head onto Remus’ thigh, his nose digging in to his stomach. He wiggles his hand from out underneath the blanket and squeezes it into Remus’ open palm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They fall asleep like that, the cups of tea Remus had planned on making taking the backseat in his mind in favour of holding Sirius close. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">•••</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It takes only two days for them to fall into a routine of domesticity. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus wakes up at his usual time of half past seven, and lets Sirius sleep until ten o’clock when he brings him a cup of tea in bed. They sit in companionable silence as they sip their hot drinks, then set out to begin the day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius likes going for walks, so after they shower and change, Remus shows him around the little village he’s situated himself in. Neither of them comment on how close it is to Godric’s Hollow, and if they deliberately take the long way home each day to avoid passing the house of their once beloved friends, neither of them comment on it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Whilst Remus cleans up the flat (which gets surprisingly messy rather quickly, all thanks to a certain new flat mate), Sirius cooks. He uses both Muggle and Wizarding techniques, and cooks up so much food that by the end of the first week, their freezer is overflowing with Chinese containers filled with meals to last them a lifetime. Remus complains about how there’s so much food, but he secretly loves how easy they’ve slipped into this domesticity, and doesn’t stop Sirius from cooking even more meals than they’re able to eat. In fact, he rather enjoys watching as Sirius chops and stirs and whistles as he works. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">In the evenings, they play board games as they listen to records on Remus’ record player. They take turns in picking artists, but considering their taste in music is one and the same, there’s no real arguments. Sirius plays Queen and Remus plays Bowie, and when they put ABBA on Dancing Queen fills the living room, Remus makes up new words to make fun of Sirius, all in good fun, to which Sirius pulls Remus up from the floor and they dance together around the room until their legs give out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus shouldn’t be surprised how easy this works. After all, they shared a room back at Hogwarts for seven years. They know each other’s tick, what calms them down and riles them up. They’ve argued until they’ve cried and laughed until no sound could be heard from either party. Living together now, as adults who have been through a collective trauma - why, it is as easy as breathing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Their sleeping arrangements don’t surprise him either. He’d originally set Sirius up in the spare room with no complaints, but later on that first night, Sirius had crept across the hall and had slid into Remus’ bed. He has remained there every night since. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">With all this easy living, it comes to no surprise when Sirius gently pushes him up against the fridge and leans in for a kiss one particular night. Remus’ knees go weak, and he lets out a moan - of pleasure, relief, happiness, he’s not sure; but Sirius responds enthusiastically and kisses him harder, deeper, with more desperation and need, and it feels right. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They go to bed that night with panting breaths and desperate moans. Remus marks Sirius up with a need so powerful that it consumes him. Sirius does not complain, only tangles his fingers in Remus’ hair and pulls, keening into him as his throat is covered in love bites and hickeys. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">In what could have been moments or hours later, they lay entangled in sheets and in each other, sweaty and out of breath. Remus plays with Sirius’ hair, falls in love with the soft sounds of contentment coming from Sirius’ lips, and kisses him soft and slow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I love you,” he pants across Sirius’ lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I love you,” Sirius pants back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">•••</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <strong> <span class="s2">The last time Remus goes to Grimmauld Place, the world has restored itself. </span> </strong>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He walks through the front door to hear the boisterous sounds of Sirius engaging in playful banter with their new resident. Remus can barely contain himself enough to put his shoes and coat away appropriately, before he walks at a neck-break speed towards the dining room and leans against the doorframe. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Harry Potter is sitting on one side of the table, throwing his hands around animatedly as he discusses some inane topic with Sirius. There’s a glass of juice on the table in front of him that he continually comes close to knocking over and spilling all over himself. He barely seems to notice as Sirius has his full attention. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">That is, until Sirius shuts up as he spots Remus by the entrance, and beckons him in. Harry frowns, then looks to where Sirius’ attention is and immediately stands up, a smile breaking across his face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Moony!” He says, closing the distance between them and embracing Remus in a hug. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hello, Harry. I see Sirius is keeping you occupied,” Remus says, and Harry leans back to beam up at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Barely. We’re talking about which Queen member is the best.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus lets out a breathless chuckle and cocks an eyebrow, not missing the way Sirius has turned his back to the two of them to “occupy” himself with the tea pot on the stove. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh? Is that so? Who have you both settled on?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Harry begins walking backwards, eyes never leaving Remus, but he seems rather oriented with the dining room by now to not walk into anything.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Sirius keeps arguing that Freddie Mercury is the best, and whilst he’s not wrong, I also think Roger Taylor is a rather nice guy.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus pauses in his step. “It’s the blonde hair and the baby face, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Harry laughs, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. “Maybe.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius comes up behind him and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I must admit, he is a rather spectacular drum player. He really knows how to...bang those drums.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Neither Harry nor Remus miss the double entendre, especially when they see Sirius looking at Remus as he finishes his sentence. Harry gags and slips under Sirius’ arm to take a drink, whilst Remus rolls his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Really appropriate thing around the thirteen year old, Sirius Black,” Remus tries to scold, but he’s wrapping his arms around Sirius’ waist and pulling him close. He takes a moment to kiss Sirius’ neck, trailing tiny kisses up to his ear, before he whispers, “Shall I demonstrate how well I can bang your drums tonight?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sirius shivers, an action that makes Remus smirk and Harry declare defeat as he makes a hasty exit towards the stairs. Guess Remus wasn’t as quiet as he thought. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You drive me wild, Remus Lupin,” Sirius groans, and reinforces his statement by giving him a deep, heart-pounding kiss. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Remus gives as good as he gets, lightly pinching Sirius’ sides just the way he knows he likes it. Sirius responds with the prettiest moan and Remus feels his head go dizzy with desire. They make it to their bedroom just in time as Harry hides in his own room with the doors locked and Sirius’ silencing spell cast over it. <br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Later, as they sit around the dining table eating dinner, Remus can’t quite believe this is his life. His little family, full of individualism and uniqueness and love, makes his heart clench in such a pleasant way. He watches as Harry speaks excitedly about his upcoming year at Hogwarts, and revels in the fact that Sirius still tries to play footsies with him under the table.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Things aren’t perfect. They argue and they shout and sometimes Sirius gives Remus such a bad headache, he feels as if his head is going to explode. Harry gets up to mischief at Hogwarts as the Marauders once did, and sometimes Sirius and Remus are locked in an argument with him for days on end, sending Howlers back and forth to Hogwarts to try and explain that <em>no, he should not follow in their footsteps (“Sirius, stop laughing, this is a seri- important conversation!”),</em> but they all love each other at the end of the day. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And late at night, when Sirius snuggles in close, Remus closes his eyes and lets out a satisfied sigh. Grimmauld Place is now his home, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and comments are much appreciated x</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>